Masked

Entry Three

Hey, future me. September of twelfth grade was an interesting month, wasn't it? I managed to keep the masking smile up, with little difficulty. The only person who made it difficult was Zoey. She was one of the girls whose smile could brighten a room, who you'd go to whenever you were feeling down. She was the kind of girl who got the sportsmanship award, who had countless gifts waiting for her on her desk on every holiday. She wasn't rude, or cruel, or too smart, or too dumb. She was as close to flawless as you could get, inside and out. She had a visually pleasing body, with smooth and curvy hips, and a thin waist and a large chest. Her makeup was always perfect, and her hair was always styled.

Zoey had a distinct style to her, with knee-high socks, pleated skirts, oversized sweaters, all in neutral shades. Her hair was bobbed, but wavy and cute, and her wire-rim glasses compared to Danielle's. Zoey had freckles all over her flawless, glowing skin, and deep chestnut eyes. She had minimalistic makeup, but it completed her style, with mascara, eyeliner, and nude lipsticks.

Her perfection never upset me before, but when she walked up to me on the first day of school, at exactly 8:53 AM, asking if I was alright after the accident, she made the pit in my stomach drop beneath my toes. I wanted to throw up at the sound of her genuinely sweet and considerate voice, punch that perfect face of hers. She didn't deserve to be hurt, and I knew that. She'd done nothing wrong, she couldn't have done anything wrong, because she was Zoey. Zoey couldn't hurt a fly. I hated Zoey because she was so perfect. It hurt because I knew that no one ever flinched when they took off her clothes. She didn't have any scars to hide under her clothes; she didn't have anything to hide.

Thank God for Danielle. She noticed the way my grin faltered for a split second and held my wrist. When I get panicked, my left hand shakes uncontrollably, and the shaking sometimes spirals into panic. Danielle held my hand and waited for it to stop shaking before she let go, and thanked Zoey for the condolences. I tightened the strap of my mask and smiled back at Zoey, reassuring her silently that she hadn't made me jealous, and hadn't made me want to break down and cry.

"Yes, thanks, Zoey!" I smiled, my voice steady and strong. I was proud of how well I faked it, even when I was screaming on the inside.

"You girls always know how to cheer me up!" With that, Zoey and her friends smiled, handing over a box of chocolates before walking away. Danielle gave me a questioning look, but when I swiftly nodded my head and smiled my signature masked smile, she turned away, reassured that I was alright. I slid the chocolates into my bag and cracked a joke about running late before carrying on with our morning, headed to our first class.

As we walked away, though, my right hand slid subconsciously to my scar. My index finger moved over the coarse, malformed scab, the one that only I can see when I look in the mirror. The one that didn't bleed, no matter how many times I ripped off the scab or cut it again with my recurring failures. Danielle didn't see my hold on my invisible scar, and she didn't see when I picked the scab clean off for the fortieth time since it first appeared. I knew it would bleed memories when I got home, would swell with my mistakes, and would be the reason my tears dripped down my face at two in the morning, just like it had for the past thirty-nine times, yet I still picked it off. I knew I deserved the pain.

A laugh escaped my lips, a sickening laugh from my throat. The kind of sound you make when you are choking on your self-loathing. Danielle laughed with me without knowing why I was laughing. As the chuckle died down, I realized that I found it humorous that Danielle and I would have countless boxes of chocolates to eat over the first few months of the new school year. Chocolate is pretty good though, and it made September a little more acceptable.

The month of September was perfect. My grades held up, my mask stayed tight, and Danielle and I made more memories. She was happy, and I was faking happiness well enough to slip under her radar. Nothing could have gone wrong. Everything was going to get better because time heals all.